h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

Several years ago - 21 of them in fact (good grief!) - my Ma, my sister and I threw a surprise party for my Dad. Thank goodness for photographs, because my main memories of the event come from the photos that were taken; lots and lots of smiling faces. He was a much-loved and much-appreciated man.

We managed to keep the whole thing a complete surprise. (Ye gods, but the number of people whose response to "we're throwing a surprise party for my Dad" was "does he know?").

There were people there from just about every stage in his life; his sister was there, army friends, and of course friends from his years as a clergyman.

He always used to be in a foul temper before parties, we'd call hit his "pre-party mood" and it was disorientating having him normal and sunny in the week before. He was in complete shock at the time, and it was over to fast. That was hard really - so many friends, and over so soon.

I loved doing it though. He died five years later, and I still miss him whenever I think of him which, one way or another, is most days.

B

Photographs are so important. It sounds like it was a great success and perhaps you should have surprised him every year with a party, instead of putting up with the bad moods.

My husband is always in a bad mood before parties, too.

Lovely story, thanks.

Was the bad mood a result of his theological mindset? Many religious people seem to feel it's a sin to enjoy oneself.

Not even slightly. Here's a piece I wrote about him years ago: A3097424

It was social nerves, pure and simple: what if no-body came.....?

The last time I was involved in anything like that it was for my mother's birthday earlier this year.
It was just a family gathering, mum and dad, me and my three sisters and partners and all ten grandchildren of theirs. Me and MC met them at a location agreeing advance with my dad (Llandudno train station), took them for a drive and a meal in N. Wales and then were to be taking them home. Only we didn't. Instead we took them to a remote youth hostel near Conway.
My mother swears blind she hadn't a clue, even when we were getting lost along very narrow mountain tracks and MC was cursing under (and over) her breath as the road got steeper and steeper and steeper.
The look on her have when she was greeted by some of her grandiose when we arrived at the hostel is one of those moments you wish you could have filmed. On the other hand, we were very releved just to have arrived.

"Not even slightly. Here's a piece I wrote about him years ago: A3097424 It was social nerves, pure and simple: what if no-body came.....?" [Ben/Mrs. Z]

That's a wonderful account of your father's life, Ben. Political labels are often inadequate to describe a man in full. I can imagine why he became so impatient with bishops. Maybe he felt it was an act of kindness to relieve them of the necessity of attending his funeral so they could continue counting their angels on pinheads